IN FLIGHT ENTERTAINMENT:

The man in the seat next to me sneezed & coughed his way
from St Petersburg to Moscow. I thought “oh-oh!”.
I flinched, waiting in the aisle to disembark every time
he sneezed & coughed on my back. Walking fast to baggage,
slaloming between wheelie bags to put some distance between
us he kept pace with me, sneezing & coughing close behind.
At the baggage carousel he moved to stand close to me, had I
been selected as a Guinea pig in a chemical experiment –
I moved away? He watched me, the ambivalence of his travelling
companion was odd – girlfriend?, nurse? She had remained
static throughout the flight as he leaned over her every time
he needed to cough & sneezed into a stained & wrinkled hankie.
I’ve been cultivating a familiar cough for two days, went to bed
last night, shivering, woke feeling nauseous, reminiscent of the
time I threw up during Two Months Off at the Hard Festival in
LA – that was a laugh.

Listening to ‘Beware the Fetish’ by Kasai Allstars – let the sun in.

(K) 

THE PHONES RING:

The phones ring, they ring, ring, ring, ring.
The phones keep ringing, ringing, ringing, ring, ring, ring.
“Hello?”
“Hello?”
“Hello?”
“I can’t get through, you’re constantly engaged”
“Yeah, the phones keep ringing”
Ring-a-ding-ding

(K)

JUST FEELING:

Woke up shaking with that familiar splintered thinking,
head skittering in directions on the scent of anything to
latch onto,feeling sick. It’s a straight forward re-boot,
a re-wire, loop around the fried connections, slip in that
sweet knee jerk & let the light in. This is just the stuff
you gave me, learned from 16 years of keeping it straight
with an un-bottle gene between the ears. Read T.S Eliot –
‘Little Gidding’, breathing clean green air, fresh,
un-filtered. Get quiet, reach out & let the feet do the rest.
Listening to:
Hakon Stene – ‘Lush Laments for Lazy Mammal’ soothes the mood.

(K)

AT THE PARTY OF FABULOUS PEOPLE:

A lavish recreation of all the best 90’s parties
as the helicopters ferried the beautiful people
to a clearing in the forest of illuminated trees
to dance & promenade around a lake of miniature
frogs & floating wonders. Bridges adorned with
mer-people, girls dancing in giant balls hung
from trees, elfin folk & wild cats on leashes,
costumes twelve months in the planning.
A sparkle in the eye, a finger in the crowd
pointing to a smile as the kick drum underscores
euphoric chords & mid-summer-night-characters
crawl with deliberate grace between our feet.
This morning our truck remains marooned in mud,
big machines with many wheels to the rescue.
I would like to see pictures of the beautiful people
still wandering in the woods at 8:00am, but though
I’m not one for sentimental nostalgia, last night
as they slipped between gentle police & even handed
security, for a moment it felt like the best of the 90’s.

(K)

LEAVING THE SAINT:

Paper Raven at the feet lying in a pool of aftershow hiss
on the floor of a midnight elevator.
“Hello Raven”
“Hello Karl, how was the show?”
“Great, thank you for asking”
“Don’t mention it, all part of the service”

Six hours sleep, body steamrollered, ears ringing,
stay focused, remain physically fit & able, sound
of body & mind, to jump back into the sky. Breath
the processed breath of our fellow passengers, feel
the drag of that thin wire drawn through your head.
Land into the unknown, stage as yet unbuilt for
tonight’s show & wait in a hotel in a city a long
way from home. Let’s hope they have food & windows
that open.

(K)

ST PETER:

Gradually last nights pillow smelled of rain soaked animal,
earthy biscuit, musky alley.
Crossing six lane boulevards on broad backed Zebras, white
stripes raised from the black top the size of sleeping
policemen, three fat arrows to guide us. Steely rail snakes,
slip into tar, carry tram wheels, sky cut slashed to bits,
constructivist geometry, electric wires. Jazz clubs,
coffee kiosks, shops tucked beneath the monumental facades
of triple glazed apartment blocks, the hiss of rubber hugs
the earth, rolling in the rain. Regeneration, new life,
big sky, a city waiting to be mapped with pen & camera.

(K)

MIDNIGHT AT AIRPORT HOTEL:

Open shirted men recline with cigarettes on loungers,
fists full of tinnies, distant expressions.
Taxis ebb & flow, deposite linen jackets, overnight bags,
waste lines expanded. Feel the competition at the queue
for check in, alfa-male city.
“Roomservice is 24 hours”
Says the woman on reception, winking.

(K)

IMAGINARY SUN:

Sun hides behind pastel cloud spread thin with a sky knife,
micro fine rain. Drive the back roads, listening to ‘CAVALO‘
by Rodrigo Amarante brings the heat of the sun back, makes me
feel good for a crazy day.

(K)

THE DRESSING UP BOX: